Foggy Days
by AnnaJammyDodgers
Summary: This is a fanfic for a friend. Hope she likes it :D


It was a cold Friday night, and the first signs of winter were appearing. The brown and red and orange, and yellow leaves fell off the trees and withered away. The piercing wind was howling through the air. Outside a pub in London, a man was sat, sipping his pint of beer and carefully eyeing every person who passed him. He had a pale face, white as a sheet, and a brown military coat around him. It looked a lot bigger than his size. As he finished his drink, a text alert tone came from his phone. Tapping it, he read the text.

**I am close now. Why do you want to meet me? MM **

The man grinned, contentedly. And replied.

**Just come and I will tell you more. JM**

Jim waved to the waiter and ordered another beer while he waited for his visitor. He wrapped the coat around him a bit more to warm up. This criminal should be keeping a low profile but was out in public, sipping beer. This was obviously a pretty important meeting. After shooting himself on the rooftop, he tried to keep away from the public and just get on with being himself. Which meant causing all sorts of trouble. But Jim liked trouble. He liked seeing people run around because of him. He just enjoyed it. The attraction of chaos and disasters was more tempting than peace and normality. Jim stared into the distance as he saw a man walk up to him, less than impressed that he was called here. Jim grinned and leaned back into the chair.

"Hello, Magnus." He greeted. Magnus sat down on the opposite chair. His hair was curly and blonde and he wore a small coat and a beige scarf. "Nice scarf. Suits you." Jim commented, picking up a bag of peanuts from the bowl.

"What do you want, Moriarty? I'm not interested in any of your tricks." Magnus replied, deeply. His eyes didn't meet Jim's. He daren't look eye to eye to a criminal. After all, he was a police detective. Police always kept their distance from released criminals.

"Tricks?" Jim scoffed. "I haven't a clue what you're on about, Magnus." He ate a peanut. Magnus shook his head.

"You do. You remember what you did. To me. And I hate you for it." Magnus said, putting a lot of emphasis on hate. Jim smiled, and sipped the newly poured beer. Magnus frowned and stared at the beer.

"You want one?" Jim offered.

"No. Thank you. You may have poisoned it." Magnus hissed. Jim laughed.

"You think I would waste my time poisoning beer? Really, Magnus?" Jim grinned. Magnus tried his best not to kill this guy were he sits, but he knew Moran would be in any building ready to fire if he did. "Should we talk somewhere more…private?" Magnus finally turned his face to look at Moriarty.

"You look terrible." Magnus frowned, confused. "I almost pity you." Jim touched a visible scar on his face with his index finger. "I'm guessing Sherlock did that?"

"No, Sherlock doesn't have the guts to strike me!" Jim raised his voice. "It was someone….closer to home." Magnus raised his eyebrow.

"You mean…Moran? Sebastian did that to you?" Magnus worked out. Jim nodded. "Why?" Jim glared at Magnus, angrily. "Oh. Did you cheat on him?"

"No." Jim said. "He thought I was dead. Then when I showed up out of the blue, he gave me a piece of his mind. I was expecting little else, though." He turned his head to a family, eating supper. He smiled. "Let's go somewhere else, Maggie."

"Why?" Magnus asked.

"Because I don't want to hurt anyone without a good reason." Jim stood up and walked off, stepping to several puddles. Magnus sighed and followed.

They walked through a small alleyway towards an abandoned warehouse. Magnus kept his distance from Jim. He knew too well that Moriarty was very unpredictable. He and Jim had a long past. But after Jim betrayed Magnus, he hated him, even to this day.

"Where are you taking me?" Magnus narrowed his eyes onto the warehouse.

"Wait and see." Jim grinned, mischievously. Magnus grunted angrily. Jim opened the heavy doors to the warehouse. It was dark and the only light was from the full moon. Magnus immediately felt the chill of winter. He put his hands in his pockets to warm them up. "This is where we talk now, Maggie."

"I do wish you'd stop calling me that, James." Magnus replied, seeing his breath as it was so cold. Jim walked up to the where the moonlight shone.

"I wished I was a chef, Magnus. Look how that turned out." Jim grinned, evilly. Magnus looked around. The warehouse was bare, only a few broken chairs, tables and equipment. But then he heard something in the darkness. A yelp, a whimper. Jim didn't turn his head.

"What was that?" Magnus said, angrily.

"What was what?" Jim asked. Another whimper.

"That!" Magnus yelled, echoing. Jim scoffed.

"Fine. It's just a little friend." Jim said, walking into the darkness. Magnus got out a small torch. Jim pulled out a man sat on a chair, with a cloth around his mouth. He looked down at his feet.

"Who is that?" Magnus said, shining the torch on the man's face. The man raised his head. His face was bloody and pale. "Oh, my lord." Magnus knew who it was instantly. It was The Doctor.

"You two know each other? Great!" Jim clapped once. The Doctor moaned, trying to reach Magnus. "Stay!" Jim shouted. The Doctor did as he was told. His hands were tied behind the chair.

"Jim, I thought you had changed!" Magnus glared at Moriarty, angrily. Jim scoffed.

"I never change, Magnus. People like me, we never change. We just change our strategies." Jim smiled. The Doctor was weak and knew if he tried to move, he'd get punished. Magnus kept his eye on Jim but knelt in front of the Doctor.

"Are you okay, boss?" Magnus asked, examining him. The Doctor nodded, giving a small groan in pain. There was a bloody wound on his shoulder which had a wet cloth over it.

"The Doctor was a good friend to me. Until, he went all soft. Then, he came and told me I was doing something wrong. So, I gave him a bit of a reminder how I treat people who think they can tell me what I can and can't do." Jim explained. Magnus frowned at Jim, full of rage and anger. The Doctor coughed.

"Can I please take off the gag?" Magnus said, trying not to sound scared. Moriarty nodded. Magnus untied the cloth. The Doctor started to cough, trying to breathe.

"Ma….Magnus…." He whispered, faintly. Magnus felt tears but tried to hold them back. "Magnus….this is my fault…" Jim tilted his head back and walked off. Magnus saw that no one was around and untied the Doctor.

"Doctor, this is not of your doing, okay?" Magnus reassured, untying his hands, which were bloody too. The Doctor could hardly stand and when he did, he instantly fell to the ground. Magnus rushed to him. "It's okay. You're coming to mine."

"Sherlock!" The Doctor shouted. "Sherlock, where are you?" Magnus shone his torch around. The Doctor desperately tried to walk. There was no answer. "Sherlock. He's gone….is he dead?" Magnus didn't answer and instead, helped the Doctor get out.

When they got to Magnus' house, The Doctor sat on the sofa, all tense and nervous. As the kettle boiled the water, Magnus sat opposite his friend. He had never seen the Doctor in such a state, or anyone else for that matter. Silence.

"Where is he?" The Doctor kept whispering to himself. Magnus soon went to pour the tea. "He was with me."

"Who?"

"Sherlock. I swore to John that I'd protect him. But…"

"He's a smart guy. He'll be fine." Magnus placed a red mug on the table. The Doctor reached out for it and took a few minutes to take in the heat. "What happened, Doctor? You look like you've been to hell and back." Magnus asked, drinking his tea.

"I don't really want to talk, Magnus." The Doctor replied. Magnus sighed. "I'm sorry."

"No. No, it's understandable." The officer understood, nodded. The Doctor looked around Magnus' home. It was a small house on the suburbs of the city.

"Magnus, you've got to find Sherlock. He was in a bad way when he disappeared." The Doctor persisted. Magnus placed his cup on the wooden table.

"Did Moriarty do this to you two?" Magnus asked, getting his notebook out of his inner pocket.

"No. No, it was a bigger threat."

"A bigger threat than Moriarty?"

"Yeah. Hard to believe, I know. But this guy was. He didn't give a name and I couldn't see his face well in the dark light." The Doctor sighed. He touched his wound on his shoulder, and winced at the pain.

Meanwhile, in the middle of London, a man was struggling to walk. Leaning against a wall, he fell down to his knees and screamed as the pain struck him like lighting. He put his hand against his wound, and looked up at the lights of the hospital. Sherlock tried to gather the strength to get to the hospital but the wound was so unbearable. But he did. He got across the streets and to the door. He put his hand on the door as it opened and collapsed onto the floor. As nurses and doctors surrounded him, the pain suddenly eased and faded. His vision started to blur and he couldn't hear a thing. Was this it? Was this the end? Sherlock closed his eyes, knowing this was the end of his song.


End file.
